


Spark, Flicker, Blaze

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 14:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: Somewhere along the line, her life became something she didn’t like. On her 35th birthday, she makes a decision to change all of that.





	Spark, Flicker, Blaze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maddiepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddiepants/gifts).

> Thank you @cracksinthewalls for the line: “This isn’t a man I need to spend the rest of my life with, but this is a man I need to spend the rest of my life remembering.”
> 
> Happy belated Birthday @maddiepants! I love you, sister. xox

Today is my 35th birthday. I got up this morning, watered my plants, went for a walk, got some coffee, read for a bit – not one call or text.

It’s not that I don’t have family and friends, I just don’t have _good_ family and friends.

I don’t know how I got here, but, frankly, I don’t care anymore. I decided over the course of the day that I’m done with this dwindling intimacy and lack of concern for _me_.

The only person in my life right now who seems to give a shit sets my drink in front of me. “Run a tab?” the bartender asks, wiping her hands on her towel, and I nod, handing her my credit card.

She walks off and my eyes wander as a sip my drink. In addition to the handful of people scattered in the booths and pool tables, there’s a couple huddled together, slurring and giggling. They’re only about three seats down from me, but I can’t understand a word they’re saying – not that I want to. At the end of the bar, there’s an older gentleman, sipping a sweating beer and talking on his mobile phone.

I hear the bartender laugh and turn to see her doing a shot with an extremely handsome man at the other end of the bar. They seem fun and friendly. I sigh and close my eyes then focus on my cocktail.

I don’t drink much, but when I decided to come out tonight – fixed my hair, put makeup on, stepped out for the first time in months – I also decided that I was going to do my 35th orbit around the sun justice.

I’ve got Uber on my phone and condoms in my purse.

And today is a new day.

On her way to clean up after the departing couple, the bartender checks in with me again. “Doin’ ok, darlin’?” she asks, reaching for the empty popcorn basket and glassware.

“You know what?” I answer. “I’ll take a shot.”

“Sure,” she smiles. “What kind?”

“I dunno,” I answer, scanning the bottles behind her. “It’s my birthday and no one remembered,” I say, my gaze landing back on her pretty face. “Whaddaya recommend for that?” I ask with a wry smirk.

She arches a brow and purses her lips. “Tequila,” she says, turning on her heel and grabbing a clear, heavy-looking, square bottle in one hand and three glasses in the other as she faces me again.

“Campbell!” she tosses over her shoulder toward the striking man she just did a shot with moments before. “Birthday girl. Herradura. Now.”

The guy chuckles and shakes his head before standing and wandering toward us, sipping a beer.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, clean-cut, and probably the best-looking man I’ve ever seen in person. Even in the dingy bar, it’s obvious that he’s built solid as a brick house and moves like a song.

And that face… I’m rusty with my words but my brain is jump-started with a jolt of literary verse for his lips alone.

“Happy Birthday,” he says, his eyes twinkling and his pink, wet tongue wetting his bottom lip to shine.

I smile slow and broad. “Thanks,” I reply. I haven’t smiled like this in a while – genuine and wide. Heat spreads from my cheeks to the tips of my ears, fingers, and toes.

Our bartender slides our glasses toward us and utters a toast. “Sláinte,” she says, and we clink glasses before throwing back our shots. Some of my drink spills over my chin and I scoff then scurry for a napkin.

“M’usually all about the whiskey,” the man says, his eyes dancing along with my fingers as I dab the liquor from my chin. “But that’s some good shit.” He hands his glass to the bartender and drags his eyes back to meet mine. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

He reaches for my hand, and I toss my soiled napkin aside before accepting his offer and giving him my name. When I do, his hand swallows my smaller one. It’s warm and calloused but gentle, and I feel a pleasant pooling in my belly.

Dean props himself against the bar top on one elbow near enough to feel his heat. I wonder if I’m that cold or if he’s just that hot.

“So,” he starts. “What’re you doin’ out by yourself on your birthday?”

I shrug. “No one remembered, so I decided to entertain myself.”

“Damn,” he says, sincerity in his eyes and tone. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Whatever,” I answer. “I’m over it.”

Dean watches me for a minute before speaking. “Yeah, well, I don’t place much emphasis on birthdays.” He fixes me with a playful spark in his eyes. “I mean, you’re still alive, right? Every day’s a new one.”

No, no one remembered my birthday, but this gorgeous man is here now – flirty and attentive. I deserve gorgeous, flirty, and attentive.

“Exactly,” I reply, raising my glass to toast him again. “Happy Day We’re Still Alive.”

We clink glass to bottleneck, and the sound is bright and festive. It sends a shimmer of delight over my skin that’s been rippling under his gaze.

We chat about nothing important. Dean is funny and smart. He buys us another round of drinks, and I’m starting to feel loose.

“No dogs, huh?” I say when he tells me that he doesn’t have any pets at home. I don’t either, but he really seems like a dog person.

“No,” he says with a small chuckle. “Not that my brother hasn’t tried. He’s enough into dogs for the both of us, but we’ve just never had the kinda life where we can worry about takin’ care of a dog.”

I nod. Same for me. “I get that.”

Dean has lived, though, if his features and mannerisms can speak for him. Etchings of laughter and anguish splay from the corners of his eyes. The breadth and bow of his shoulders are hard-earned and well-used. He leads with his hips when he moves like he’s powering the swing of a weighted baseball bat.

“What’s your favorite song?” he asks, shoving his fist into his pocket. “They got an old jukebox over there.” He pulls out a handful of change and starts sorting, eyes concentrated on his task.

I shrug again. “Zeppelin?” I take a sip of my drink and his eyes dance to meet mine.

“Woman after my own heart,” he says with a wink, straightening to his full height before turning and heading to the jukebox.

I openly watch him. From behind, I can better enjoy the long, balanced curve from his shoulders to the base of his spine. Every gesture and syllable from Dean stirs a cry in me that I’ve shut out for too long.

When he turns to walk back to the bar, I know – this isn’t a man I need to spend the rest of my life with, but this is a man I need to spend the rest of my life remembering.

“I love real jukeboxes,” he says with a boyish grin. “Want another one?” He points to my drink hopefully.

I pause for a minute, looking into my watered-down vodka to formulate my response. “One more, yeah,” I say then raise my gaze to meet his. “Then… let’s get outta here.”

Dean’s eyes widen slightly before his grin turns sly. Then he waves down the bartender without breaking eye contact. “Tasha,” he says. “Two more silvers. And the check.”

* * *

All the things I thought I knew – thought I was just out of practice, but, no, Dean is superb at this. He’s an expert kisser. His hands seek and give pleasure. His body packs the perfect heft and he knows how to use it all.

“OK,” he mutters, smoothing a hand around my back to unclasp my bra. “This’s gotta go – in the way.” In seconds his lips wrap around one of my bare nipples and he hums, dropping the black lace to the floor.

I hiss and arch into his mouth, sink my fingers into his short, thick hair and tug. Dean moans and spreads my knees open wider with his own. “So soft,” he whispers as he focuses his wet, warm mouth on my other nipple, cupping the abandoned breast in his hand. “Talk to me.”

“Fuck,” I groan, thrusting against his solid hips.

He chuckles. “Yeah?” he says, dragging his lips up over my collarbones and throat. “What else?”

“God, you’re such a tease,” I breathe, trying to pull him into me with my ankles crossed over his back. I guide his mouth to mine and dive in. “I just want you inside me.”

“That all?” he asks, his voice lilting around the question and his hands pressing my hips flat to the bed. “What if I wanna snack first?”

I groan out loud as he handles me, moves me. My fists grip the sheets and I close my eyes, feeling lace scrape over my thighs as he drags my thong down and off then wedges his bare shoulders between and under my thighs.

“Jesus,” I utter, giving up on trying to compete with him. I just let him have his way, I let him have me.

He starts with kisses like he was kissing me before in the uber on the way here, but now his lips are on my cunt making me wetter. Then his tongue swipes slowly, gently, up and around, back down and inside. He pulls my clit between his lips then moves his tongue back and forth, back and forth, faster; and I’m gasping.

“Dean, my god, what…”

“Mmm,” he moans, burying his tongue inside me and using his whole mouth to work me over.

He won’t let me move, just holds me open and in place, kissing me deep and strong. I’m wound up like a hand-crafted top, ready to spin out as he laps at me from opening to clit, like he’s licking a double-scoop ice cream cone.

I’m shaking as his jaw and his tongue and lips fuck me blind. My body burns where we’re connected, where his fingers press into my skin and his mouth between my legs. I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’m sure no one has gone down on me this long since I was in high school and my fumbling boyfriend was trying to figure out how to give head.

Dean already knows very well how to give head, and I come against his lush lips, sparks flying behind my eyelids.

He gets rid of his jeans and boxers before sliding his fingers with mine and his hot, heavy body up over me. He fits his hips nicely in the cradle of my own and kisses my mouth for a long time. I can feel him hard and leaking against my inner thigh and I want him so badly.

“You taste good,” he says, pulling my lips with his and licking into my mouth. “You feel good, too?”

I sigh and roll my hips under him, longing to feel him push inside. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I answer.

Dean grins before kissing me again and reaching for a condom. He has it on in no time and starts teasing me again, grazing my entrance with his wide tip, pushing in just an inch and pulling back out.

I beg and grip his hips, pull on his next pass and he squeezes into me slow and stinging. Dean swears and I whine as my knees fall open. Once he’s fully seated, he pushes up on his hands and pulls out before inching back inside.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes, swaying his hips and making shallow thrusts. “Open up for me, princess.”

His brows are knit as he works me open. I’m so wet, but it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve had a real cock inside me, and, fuck, it hurts so good.

I sob. “God, I’m gonna come again.”

I grind against him as he holds me open with his hands on the insides of my knees, steadily pounding me. The icy-hot sensation of him splitting me wide and deep has me shouting his name and quaking.

“That’s right,” he grits from above me, fucking me through it. Then he’s dragging me to the edge of the bed so he can stand. “Let’s see if we can’t get one more outta you.”

He pushes back inside me easy this time, but he still feels so big and hard. “Girl, you’re a swollen mess,” he says with a grin as he dips in to kiss me. I huff a laugh and scrape my nails over his sweat-slick chest and around his back.

He braces my ankles on his shoulders and sets a steady pace. “Feel that?” he asks, and I nod.

“How could I not, God, you’re grinding right over my g-spot.” I gasp with every thrust. “Did you study the Kama Sutra before heading out to that dive bar tonight, or…?”

Dean laughs as he rolls me to my side and hovers over me, driving into me fast and hard. “Oh, honey,” he says, out of breath and eyes wild. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

Before we both finally pass out, I come three more times, three new ways, and Dean tucks me into the curve of his body.

I drift off, feeling the kind of renewal of body and soul that only comes from the blaze of fire.


End file.
